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One evening, Luther saw cattle going in the fields, in a pasture, and said: Behold, there go our preachers, our milk-bearers, butter- bearers, cheese and wool-bearers, which do daily preach unto us the faith towards God, that we should trust in him, as in our loving Father; he careth for us, and will maintain and nourish us. That God nourisheth all the Beasts.
Were I to go back to such a life I would choose the danger, and be discontented to maunder on behind the slow and harmless wool-bearers, cursing a little every now and again at their foolishness, and then plodding on once more, bunched up in an inert mass on a slow-going horse, who wearily stretches his neck almost to the ground as he dreams, perhaps, of the long, exhilarating gallops after his own kind that we once had together, being conscious, I daresay, of the contemptuous pity I feel for the slow foredoomed muttons that crawl before us on the long and weary plain.
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